Epiphany Jones Read Online Free PDF Page B

man with his fat wife and plump little Mexican children. They’re standing in front of one of the big, green lion statues outside the museum. ‘We shot this footage today for a story about the fifty-million-dollar renovation of the museum’s west wing,’ the reporter says. ‘It’s now thought that this was around the time the theft occurred.’
    And on the TV, the Mexican family has walked out of frame and now we see a group of Asian tourists with cameras around their necks. And behind them…
    ‘We’ve learned that, due to electrical work on the renovation, the security cameras were apparently disabled for an unknown amount oftime this afternoon,’ the reporter says. ‘Authorities aren’t yet sure if the thief knew of the lapse in security.’
    Behind the Asian tourists stands a woman.
    A woman with skin like cream.
    And hair as dark as a raven’s folded wing.
    A woman with a mutilated ear.
    The footage on the television, it shows the woman, the one from my dream. The one in the silverware factory. The hallucination at the coffee shop. The one who’s nothing more than another figment of my imagination.
    But it can’t be.
    Figments can’t appear on film.

5
Occam’s Razor
    I covered the Van Gogh with a sheet and haven’t looked at it since. Then I watched the news all night to see if there was any new information. And to see if they would play the footage again in which I saw my figment. But no subsequent story ever showed the same footage. Even if one had I’m sure she wouldn’t have been there again. Once you’ve stolen a Van Gogh and you start seeing your imaginary friends on TV it’s easy enough to connect the dots: I’m going crazy because I’ve come off my meds and now I’ve put someone in the hospital.
    At seven this morning I stole my neighbour’s Tribune from across the hall. The headline on the front page read ‘ MAYHEM IN THE MUSEUM! ’ Words from the article jumped out: ‘ PHOTOGRAPHER ’, ‘CRITICAL CONDITION’, ‘CO-WORKER’, ‘PERSON OF INTEREST’, ‘STOLEN VAN GOGH .’
    I threw it back into the hall.
    At nine I called my shrink’s office and got an appointment for three.
    ‘I think I’m sick again,’ I tell my shrink, before I’ve even sat down. I say I think my figments are coming back.
    ‘Slow down, Jerry,’ he says. ‘What do you mean?’
    And I suddenly wonder if my shrink watches the news. I wonder, how far does doctor-patient confidentiality go? So I lie and say that I was at the video store at lunch yesterday. I wanted to buy a DVD, only I had forgotten my wallet. When I left the store I saw one of my figments across the street. Then, when I got home that night, I discovered the DVD sitting on my couch.
    I ask him if it’s possible that my psychotic depression is gettingworse. That instead of just seeing people who aren’t there, is it possible that I am becoming them? Is it possible I have some kind of split personality and unconsciously carry out actions under their persona? Is it possible to do all this and not remember?
    ‘Which of your figments did you see?’
    I say, ‘A new one. Not Rachel.’
    ‘One you haven’t seen before you were on the mifepristone?’
    I nod.
    ‘And when did you start to see this figment?’
    ‘Several weeks ago,’ I remember. ‘Only I didn’t realise she wasn’t real. I saw her once on the sidewalk in front of the museum. Then sitting in the garden at the side of the museum. I thought it was coincidence when I noticed her in a few different places, but then I remembered that I dreamt about her years ago. That’s when I realised I had gone off my meds. I knew I should have come for a refill sooner, but I kept putting it off. I thought she’d go away. But then I saw her at lunch and she felt more real than ever. And now the DVD…’
    ‘Continue, continue,’ he says.
    I originally went to this shrink when we moved to Chicago because my shrink in LA recommended him. But for my tastes he’s too talky. My old shrink